Jedi: Sins Of The Mother

by Logic Flip

Simple Gifts Can Be Taken Away

Ponyville wasn’t called the jewel of the outer rim for nothing. It was, by the standards of the outer-rim economy, the richest city in that galactic sector and with that wealth came protection. It was by the wealth of Ponyville alone that the planet Combay was able to afford a defense military large enough to repel pirates and give slavers pause. Combine that with a non-extradition policy to wanted Republic criminals and a good pay for anyone willing to join the local militias and anyone who would try to attack the planet would find themselves on the wrong end of too many blasters. It was the reason, most assumed, why the planet had avoided the war for so long.

However, all this ‘security’ came at a high price. That price? Fragile Town. The south section of Ponyville was, to anyone with working eyes, much less glamorous than the rest of it, defined by small shacks and buildings that were of obvious lesser build quality and stood out greatly against the cityscape. Anyone who was either too honest, too poor, too crazy, or if someone high up just didn't like them was packed into this five by five mile block of ghetto on the outskirts which was walled off from the rest of the city save for one huge gate to the east with a larger guard detail than most prisons. Anyone who approached was immediately shot. Calling the measure was necessary was an understatement considering that the murder rate in Fragile Town was so high that bets were made regularly on who would die and in what way.

This was the second price of Combay’s policies.

Shot. Stabbed. Strangled. Beaten to death. Suicide (high for the mentally unstable or those with no choice). Thrown off a building. Drowned. And in very very rare cases, old age or sickness.
In Fragile Town you could die at any time and for any reason. That was the rule, not the exception.

Something that was on Dinky Doo’s mind constantly as she moved with the crowds, rounding the corner at the end of the overflowing avenue that led to the market. She pulled her cheap loose-fitting jacket tighter around her shoulders and pushed her hands deeper into her pockets to make sure they covered the credits which would count for next week’s meals. She needed to make sure there was direct interference for the money at all times from pickpockets. Her pants, just as bulky and loose as the coat, were only held up by a rag picked up from the trash as a belt and the hole made for her blond tail.
Under the weak light of streetlights the market came into view and she took a deep breath of relief.

The market was one of the few safe places in Fragile Town because it was the only place that you could buy food that didn't come from the upper city disposal droids. Market stand owners didn't even need a blaster No one would dare start something here if they valued their life not even members from warring gangs. If anyone even looked the wrong way at someone, the whole town would come down on that poor soul in an instant. It was kind of amazing what others would do for fresh vegetables.

Gently, she nudged her way through the stand-lined street. Dozens of voices haggled over products while other's shrieked at the top of their lungs to get the attention of potential customers before they passed them by. While food was the main reason anyone came, everything and anything was sold here, from (fake) exotic jewelry to animals smuggled in from uppercity to sex of any kind. She made an effort to avoid looking in the direction of several scantily clad mares and stallions of various species who tried to get her attention as well as many others as she passed. Twelve years of age or not, they saw her as a potential customer, not a child on an errand.

"Oi! Dinky!"

The 12 year old filly froze in mid-step after just waving away a female minotaur dressed in some feathery one-piece, turning to her left to search for the voice. Through the crowd she saw one of the stands and saw a taloned hand waving from the wall. She cut across the street, a smile curving on her lips as she made out the scarred beak of a familiar griffin.

"Mister Gavorn. You're in a different spot." She had missed him. She didn’t understand how but somehow she didn’t see him until nearly passing him by, expecting him to be on the other end of the street. It wasn't like he was hard to spot either. Every part of his clothing bulged, clearly a size too small. Even the buttons were held taught, indication of huge muscles underneath. His broad shoulders and almost barrel-like chest dwarfed everyone she knew even her moth— She bit down that thought as quickly as she could before the smile was forced off of her face. "I expected to see you further down."

"Aye," Gavorn laughed, jovial and full throated. Somehow it managed to drown out the rest of the street "Got 'n upgrade yesterday after the 'taur here before got taffed in the bar and yowled 'is cakesocket off t' the wrong bounty hunter. Now 'm gettin' more business than I 'ave got 'n a long time." His smile got even wider as he continued. "Yer pickin' up the usual?"
Dinky barely had time to nod before a huge bag filled to the brim with food was just short of slammed on the wooden counter. "That'll be fifteen credits."

The unicorn blinked. The bag set before her had to be seventy, maybe eighty credits worth of food. She leaned forward to make sure she didn't hear that wrong, her voice low "What?"

"Fifteen credits." His voice was firmer now but his broad smile unchanging.

He was serious.

Dinky crossed her arms, an incredulous look on her face. She knew she must have looked silly from the way Gavorn laughed a moment after. "Don' give me that look. Jus' feelin' generous today."

"Really?" She didn't buy it in the slightest, from where she was standing she could tell that several items in that bag were worth more than she had on her. "What could make you feel so generous today that you would sell a fresh carrot for fifteen credits?"

The silence that followed was two moments too long for her taste.

"Noticed that, did ye?" He finally said, the griffin's scarred beak twitched and his smile lessened somewhat. "Meant to put that 'n the bottom of the bag."

"Okay." He sighed in resignation. "I heard 'bout yer mum from Time Turner so' he an I decided..." That was all it took for Dinky's mood to divebomb out of whatever positivity she had been able to muster earlier this morning. For a moment, just a moment, she considered swatting him right in the beak, the last thing she wanted to be reminded of. The very last thing and he just had to bring it up. With a deep breath, she didn't wait the hear the rest of Gavorn's explanation. Pulling the credits out of her pocket, she quickly counted out fifteen chits, slammed them on the counter hard enough to rattle some of the other goods on it's surface and scooped up the bag without a word.

She turned to stomp away but was brought up short by a huge talon grasp on her arm. "'M sorry 'bout yer mum. Truly I am."

She shrugged off the hand, the apology doing nothing to ease the pain in her chest. "Thank you for the help, Mister Gavorn." She said, trying to stay as polite as she could.

With one final wave, she left the roar of the market faded into a dull buzzing that soon was absorbed into the silence of the streets. She had been wrong for that. She had been the one to demand an explanation and now she was stomping off like a foal half her age because she didn't like the answer. The griffin had only been trying to help, something that was rare in this town, and by association so had Mr. Turner but the last thing she had wanted on her mind was her mother not even a full day after her funeral. Not only did being reminded of what they had lost put a bad taste in her mouth but a small stone of guilt settled in her stomach. She would apologize next time she saw him.

That, however, didn't change their abysmal situation. Their mother had been the only one with a steady stream of oddjobs not to mention some money came in from their droid maintenance shop that both Sparkler and her helped with but now income was pretty much halved. Between food and rent they might not have a home by next cycle. It was a tough situation and just thinking about it made her stomach flip. She was twelve, Sparkler was sixteen, and without their mom it was open season for every creep, scumbag, and lowlife in this city to come after them. Not that their mom hadn't prepared them. Sparkler was a good shot with the blaster mom taught her with, and she herself knew how to fight with her fists and a good solid wooden stick.

Still, how long would it take for the vultures to smell freshly dead meat? Bad feelings, namely frustration, rushed over her in huge crushing waves. All the anxiety, the fear. The uncertainty for her future. All of it was scaring her.

She shivered as a gust of wind barreled into her, biting through the thin layers she wore and chilling her to the bone. Or maybe that chill was the thought of being on the streets. They wouldn't last long without the shop.

Sighing, she shook his shoulders and rolled her shoulders in an attempt to work out some of the anxiety building up inside.

When the repurposed swoop garage that pulled double-time as their home and shop came into view, she fished out her cardkey out of her pocket and came to a stop in front of the door.

At least, she managed to get home without a problem.

"Don't move." A voice quietly demanded. "Don't turn around."

And of course she thought too soon.

A hard cold object was pressed into the small of her back, right above the spine. The tell-tale whine of a blaster charging focused her thoughts instantly and she cursed silently. She had been caught up in her own mind and hadn't been paying attention. Now someone got the drop on her.

“You scream, I shoot.”

Her attacker's voice was unmistakably male but it was extremely rough, gravely, and dry as if he hadn't drank anything for days. She spied a length of rusty pipe by her hoof and formed a plan while nodding that she understood.

"Good." The voice rasped, "Now empty your pockets. With your hands. Your horn glows, I shoot."

Slowly, Dinky reached into her pockets and, thinking fast, pulled out her credits only to drop them by 'accident'. The voice cursed and the blaster moved away from her back as the money clattered to the street.

"Pick them up." He commanded.

The unicorn nodded, bending her knees slowly reached for the credits, which just so happened to be scattered on top of the pipe.She set down the groceries while she bent over to free up her other arm and before her attacker realized she was reaching for, she already had the pipe in her right hand and swung at his legs.

Despite the rust, the pipe was solid and weighty, and it snapped the taller male's knee with a sharp Pop! The male's scream of pain didn't stop her as she quickly took a solid step around, placing herself almost shoulder to shoulder with her attacker, who she now could identify as a dark red pegasus.

Well, that explained why she didn't hear him and now she had a certain advantage. Her mom taught her that the wing joint was the most sensitive part of anatomy on a pegasus or griffin and seeing that she was going up against a grown stallion, Dinky knew that this was not a fight to drag out.

With one semi-circle swing to build up momentum and compensate for the difference in height, she gripped the pipe with both hands and brought it down across his back as hard as she could. The wing that took the brunt of the blow collapsed with several sharp snaps before the tip buried into the joint with a sharp crunch, sending the male forward into the street.

He didn't get up. The joint did it's job.

Wasting no time, she gathered up her credits and tucked the the stallion's blaster into her belt, trying not to shake as she did so when she noticed his wings. Both the unbroken right one and the broken left one could barely be called wings in any definition, the feathers were molting and the ones that weren’t falling out even as she watched were a ruffled, tangled mess. A tell-tale sign of lack of care and drug abuse, probably Dust if she had to guess-it was Fragile Town’s “Cash Crop” after all-and she felt her hands shake just a little bit more.

If this stallion had been the wrong amount of crazy and suffering from withdrawal, he could have easily fired without warning and she would be the one lying still in the street. While it was a fact of life here, didn’t make it any less scary. Just as she was getting ready to pull him out of the way, the front door flung itself open and Sparkler appeared with mom's blaster in hand.

The light pink unicorn looked at the pegasus out cold on the steps then looked back up at Dinky then holstered the blaster. “Money, drugs, or sex?”

“Money.” Dinky answered as she continued to try to drag the unconscious male out of street. “Idiot took his blaster off me when I dropped the credits. Can you get his legs?”

“Yeah,” Sparkler answered, grabbing the pegasus’ by the hooves and frowned at the unnatural way his left leg bent then it was only as the two of them picked him up did she seem to notice the odd angle one of his wings were bent at. “So... the leg and the wing joint?"

Dinky nodded as they rounded into a nearby alley. “First one made him drop the blaster. It was the joint that dropped him like a stone.” She didn’t miss the sympathetic wince that her sister made as she spoke.

“Ouch.”

“I know. It’s why I did it.”

“Set him here.” Sparkler said with a nod to a nearby trash disposal container.

With a hard toss, they dropped the stallion into a refuse pile and turned back to the shop.

Dinky followed her sister through the small metal door and almost immediately tripped over a T8 model's head. She managed to catch herself before she cracked her muzzle on the floor. "I thought you were going to clean these up while I went to get food." Parts and pieces were scattered all around the floor and every table and counter in the room that served as their kitchen, living room, and workshop.

"I was...but then I got distracted."

"Whatever," Dinky sighed as she threw the large bag of food onto their table, ignoring the droid parts clattered off the surface and fell to the floor.

Sparkler squinted. “Where did you get the money to buy all of that?”

Dinky mumbled something incomprehensible.

“What?”

“It was Gavorn, okay! He gave it to me at a discount.” She lowered her voice. “Because of mom.”

“Sith spit.” Spakler swore. “Dinky, how many times must I tell you!? We can’t take charity. We won’t take charity! You know what will happen next? Ponies will talk. ‘The Doo family’, they’ll say, ‘They don’t have enough food.’ We will not turn out like Twinkleshine.”

Dinky winced. Twinkleshine was Fragile Town’s cautionary tale that they had personally seen play out when they were younger. Shine had been a mare that had somehow decided that borrowing, begging, and accepting charity in this town of all places was a safe way to live. That choice had made her life considerably shorter. It eventually came to a head when she took credits from the wrong loan shark and didn’t pay her due. While Dinky hadn’t personally seen it, she heard that they could only identify the body by Twinkleshine’s cutie mark when they found it.

“You think I don’t know that? You’re stubborn and stupid and you always think you’re right. The fact of the matter is, we need charity, and we wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for me!” She snapped, motioning towards their newly acquired blaster on her hip with a wave.

“How dare you! Ever sin-”

Knock, knock

The sisters stopped their fighting and looked at the door.

Dinky looked warily at her sister, worried. She received an identical look.

“I’ll get the door,” she whispered, “And you grab the blaster. Just in case.” Sparkler nodded.

Dinky, drawing the blaster off her belt, slowly pulled the steel door open to see the cold face of Time Turner.

“Oh. It’s you,” she said. “Come in, I guess.” She stepped aside to let him in. “It’s just Mr. Turner, Sparkler!” He nodded at Dinky and trotted slowly into the small room, his steps even.

“Dinky. Sparkler.” He set a small brown bag on the floor in front of him. Sparkler raised an eyebrow and poked at it.

“What, is that food or something? Because we don’t need any, we’re completely fine on our own and-”

He stopped her with a raised hand. “No, Sparkler, it’s not food, for Force’s sake. It’s not even for you at all, so you can stop talking.” He turned to Dinky and gestured towards her. “It’s for you, lucky idiot.” She stared at the bag puzzled, and then to him. Back at the bag.

“Well, are you going to open it or stand around all day?”

If there was one thing that could be said about Time Turner was that he was just as ornery as he was kind and his patience as a result was in short supply.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Sparkler snapped as she sat down at her workbench, having lost interest on what was going on, pushing some of the tools scattered on top its surface of it aside.

“Is what uncomfortable?”

“Walking around with that huge stick up your plot all the time.”

Dinky tried and failed to keep the smile off her face.

Time Turner was not as amused. “Witty. Do you share your brand of humor with everyone or do you save it for me?”

Sparkler snorted as she pulled the head of the T8 droid that Dinky had tripped over off the floor. “Nope, you just keep giving me good material.”

“Well, while it must be nice to have a subject such as myself as your muse,” he said. Another snort from Sparkler. “Let’s get back to the reason why I’m here.”

Dinky rolled her eyes. It would probably be better for everypony if she just opened the bag. The last thing she needed was Mr.Turner and her sister having a verbal battle all night.

She warily picked up the bag by it’s handle and, setting it on the small table, undid the clasp. There lay a small package, wrapped in tightly in old, dirty cloth. There was also a palm-sized hexagonal-shaped holoprojector that looked quite expensive, with a holo-disk sitting on top of it.

Dinky’s eyes widened and she gasped, “This was mom’s?” A holo-journal! She had seen these before and her heart began to race. She could see her mother again, even if it was just in projection form.

Quickly, enthusiastically, she snatched the projector up and began to press the disk into the slot it was for but Turner stopped her.

“Don’t play that first! For the sake of the Divine, I swear...I wanted to get a good look at that thing,” he said, indicating the package still inside the bag with a wave, “But your mother made me promise not play anything on it. It’s for yours and Sparkler’s ears only. Listen to whatever girlie stuff you want later, I have no desire to be bored by it.”

Dinky almost disregarded what Time Turner said. She wanted to see mom again, to hear her voice again but one annoyed looked from the earth pony let the desire subside for the time being.

“Fine.” She grumbled, setting the things on the table next to the food.

With a sigh, she pulled the wrapped bundle from the bag and pulled away at the string binding it. As the piece of cloth fell away, revealing what was underneath Dinky felt her body go cold.

At first she thought it was a bend of solid black pipe but all it took was for her to see the solid red switch near what she thought was the top to identify what it was.

A lightsaber. A real, honest to the Divine’s lightsaber.

The lightsaber fit comfortably in her grasp, the single gentle slope from end to end perfectly fit into the concave of her palm, finishing with a single stylized spike-like blade guard. It was black in color and, now that she paid a bit more attention, slightly heavier than it’s size would suggest. Several tiny silver circles embedded in the side near the pommel Dinky recognized as her mother’s cutie mark.

A gasp from the left told her that Sparkler was seeing the same thing she was and with a look up at Time Turner and his serious expression confirmed that she was indeed holding a lightsaber the weapon of a Jedi.

The confirmation didn’t lessen her shaking. She had never seen one in her life, she had only heard about them tangentially whenever someone brought up the wars in conversation. Stories from both survivors and witnesses to the most recently concluded war with the Caribou and the current one being raged in some distant sector rarely missed mention of the warriors. Not that she had ever got a chance to listen long enough to get any real details beyond that, her mother would never allow her to be near when the subject was brought up.

Now she had a clear idea why. More than a clear idea. She had an answer. An answer that brought up so many more questions than she could reasonably voice at one time. In fact, there were only two she managed to bring to the forefront of the chaos that was now her mind.

“This was mom’s?” Dinky echoed, only just managing to bring her voice above a whisper. “Why didn’t she ever tell us?”

Of course it was obviously her mother’s, her cutie mark was on the thing but the stock-still shock of what she was holding and what it meant… She had no idea what it meant.

“I guess she wanted to keep it secret,” Time Turner said with a sigh. “She only told me to keep these things safe, not what was in them.”

After several silent moment the earth pony clapped his hands together and stood up. “Alright, now that that’s out of the way we can focus on the trip ahead of us.”

Wait. What?

“Wait! What?” Sparkler’s voice snapped Dinky out of her daze and now full attention was on her mother’s best friend.

“What do you mean ‘trip’?”

---

Now beginning our descent to Ponyville space port. Repeat: We are now beginning our descent.

For the first time since take off, Darth Spectrum opened her eyes from her quiet meditation and smiled.

If Spectrum had been on her master's personal ship, she’d have found a window so she might observe the descent to this outer—rim backwater of a planet. However, she wasn't allowed such a luxury for two reasons. First and foremost, her mission was meant to be discreet and her mistress's dreadnaught, the Glowing Beam, was hardly an inconspicuous vessel. They would have the planet's defense squadrons on them in seconds after they dropped from hyperspace, not that they would have been a problem, but the annoyance of wasting their suppression teams and valuable time on barely battle worthy scrapheaps from the outer-rim's 'safest' planet was a waste. Second, even being this far from Republic territory didn't mean that any Sith shouldn't exercise caution when traveling on solo missions.

Sure the intimidation factor was there. Pony, griffon, minotaur, it didn't matter who it was, you said you were a Sith and they would be tripping over themselves to make a path.
The cost, however, was that one couldn't leave their back turned. There were plenty of bounty hunters in the outer-rim looking for someone to test their skill against and any Sith or Jedi who made their presence known. Might as well put a neon target on their back that glowed in giant letters 'SHOOT HERE'.

The griffin transport freighter she’d booked passage on had no viewing ports, and so, sandwiched between a family returning from a trip to Canterlot and a businesscolt or diplomat of some kind who’d never once looked up from holonet pad, Spectrum reached out through the force. The mare sat, barely breathing now; her meditation was so deep. She was not aware of her body at all as she pushed away the presence of those in her immediate vicinity and concentrated instead on the ship.

Feeling the subtle shift of the ship around her, she knew when they began the final climb down. She felt the shift as they entered the atmosphere, she knew when they changed to the more fine-tuned thrusters. The low thrum of the engines stopped when the docking arms took over and she waited for the announcement on the com system.

Now anchored in docking bay D-64.

She was the first on her hooves and the first to disembark. Keeping a walking pace that put her from the ship to the concourse in record time despite the heavy battle armor she wore. With one glance at the ‘guards’ or rather the bounty hunters playing security, she strode up to the customs gate that barred her way from the rest of the building.

Her mission was simple: find the source of the disturbance in the Force and, if possible, bring it to her mistress. She felt her wings twitch at the thought. Calling it a disturbance was a mild understatement, it had been excruciating. She had no doubt that anyone even remotely connected to the force had felt it which was also gave her the one reason to rush to get to its source: The Jedi Council.

She knew that even if the Council was bogged down in their usual debates, that they would at least send one of their own to investigate as soon as possible. It was doubtful that, if the source of the disturbance was a Force weapon of some kind, the Jedi would use it if it came into their possession and that was why her mistress and every Sith apprentice could agree that they needed to acquire it first. The cowards would lock something with such a potential for destruction away on some backwater whereas the Sith would gladly use it in any and every capacity it could provide.

A bored looking blue stallion that was sitting in the booth didn’t bother to look up from the holobook her was reading when she approached. “Reason for visiting?”

"Business."

“Identification documents, please.”

“Here you go,” She said, pushing the forged holos towards him.

After what had to have been no more that a sideways glance at them, he pushed the holos back. “Alright, everything seems to be in order.”

Of course they were. They were designed to fool the best of identification droids, able to get her on Canterlot with very little attention. She almost felt the effort was wasted on this idiot.

“You have a nice time on Combay, Miss Dash,” He said as she pocketed the documents. “Don’t cause any trouble.”

Rainbow Dash smiled a little wider at the use of her alias. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep my head down.”

Author's Note:

Finally. I've got this out there. Honestly, though it could use some work but I'll add what I need later.

Comments

[Mordred]

HA! Rainbow Dash is pretty much Asajj Ventress